


Sullied

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Apologies, Boys In Love, Break Up, Conversations, Crying, Difficult Decisions, Disapproving Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Issues, Forbidden Love, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Sad, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Voicemail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: After Kian's homophobic parents find out about his relationship with Mark, it seems to be over for them.





	Sullied

Kian stares up into the dark, the blue moonlight casting a shadow across his room. He bites down on his bottom lip hard, trying not to cry as he brings a hand to his cheek. He could still feel the sting. He could still feel the burn branded on his left cheek – the burn of disapproval, of disgust and hatred from his own mother.

The swaying of trees are reflected in the cold shadows on Kian’s ceiling, and he tries to focus on it, tries to focus on the way the leaves move all in one direction, then back the other. Maybe even just the sound of those leaves rustling. Anything but this. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. He doesn’t want to cry anymore, which he didn’t even realise he was doing until he rubbed his bloated eyes.

He wonders how they could have been so careless and naïve. It was never going to work out, and they knew it. From the beginning, they knew the fate of their love, but it was growing stronger with each passing day before they could stop it. That isn’t something they can give up on easily.

Because whenever Kian looks into solacing blue eyes, he could lose himself. He could take his mind away from all the shit happening around him and just _be_. Just exist. Just be content with himself in his own skin, his own _heart_ , and remind himself that this isn’t wrong, that there is someone who loves him for who he is. That this is a blessing, rather.

Kian wonders if that’s now over.

They’d been cuddling on the couch after school, arms around each other, nothing but comfort and safety swimming in their minds, until the door busted open. Kian had never seen that look in his mother’s kind eyes before – that black fury. It still makes him tremble thinking about it.

Then his mum had stormed up, slapped him across the cheek and spat hurtful words while pulling them apart.

Kian had tried to explain; about how he had never been in love like this before, that being with a boy isn’t that big of a deal if she would just see how beautiful this boy is, how incredibly happy he makes Kian, how he inspires him to be a better person. But she was having none of it.

She had slapped him again.

Kian brings his hand up to that spot for the millionth time tonight, before a screeching phone violates the silence and cuts his train of thought. He rushes to answer to not wake his parents up.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

And that voice radiates so much comfort in his sullied heart. With two single words, it feels like home. Tears work their way down Kian’s cheek again. “Mark…” He whimpers.

“I miss you.” Mark’s voice is low, careful.

“I miss you too.” Kian wraps himself in his blanket, imagining that it was Mark’s strong arms holding him. “I’m so sorry about what happened today… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, babe.” Mark sniffles, and that breaks Kian’s heart a bit. He wants to be beside his love right now, wiping away tears that he knows are falling on the other side of this phone. In a way, it’s consoling too, like an indirect message that it means as much to Mark as it does to him. “Are you okay?”

Kian closes his eyes and nods. “Yeah,” he whispers back, “are you?”

“Not really, no.” Mark clears his throat and an uncomfortable silence strangles both of them. “So, eh…” The beautiful voice breaks at the end, and Kian bites down on his lips in an overwhelming sense of ominousness. “So… is this over? Are we… What’s going to happen with us?”

Kian wants to yell at him for being stupid. Wants to yell that, no, this isn’t over. This isn’t over for the world. That as long as they had each other, it would be okay because he is so fucking ridiculously deep in love with this idiot. But he isn’t too sure anymore – not about his love for Mark but about how this would work.

“I don’t know, Marky…” Kian answers honestly. He can hear his own voice tremor. “I don’t want this to be over.”

“Neither do I. I love you.”

There’s another wordless break – only sniffles and little sobs. Kian wishes to say it back so bad; so bad that it hurts. “I… I think my parents are going to make me move schools. I overheard them talking. They don’t want me to be… near you.”

Mark doesn’t reply, and that makes Kian’s heart fall.

“Mark?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m here. So, okay, so you’re… moving.”

“Mhm.” A sigh is heaved out on both sides simultaneously. “I’m sorry, Mark.”

“Yeah, I’m… sorry too. Shit.” Another sniffle, another sob. “So, is this ov-“

“Shut up.” Kian interrupts, face crumpling even at the thought of it. He’s sure that if he hears it, he wouldn’t be able to cope. He couldn’t fathom that right now. This is hard enough already. “Can we not say it?”

“Okay.” Mark croaks, and sighs again. “I love you so much, Kino.”

“I love you too.”

“We’ll still… see each other and that, right? Keep in touch?” Mark sounds unsure, and that makes both of them feel despondent. Their love was just about the only truth, until now. The fact that they can’t even be sure of that anymore, then there’s no purpose, really.

Kian swallows hard. “M-maybe.”

“Maybe… right. Fuck.” Mark breathes. _Maybe_ isn’t good enough. The stark reality slowly hits him, and his head races miles in a futile attempt to wrap around the idea of never seeing the love of his life anymore. That just simply isn’t imaginable.

“I’m sorry… So sorry.” Kian repeats for about the millionth time, but it’ll never be enough. Never enough to express how sorry he is, how regretful he is. “It’ll be hard to get over you. Impossible, probably. Mark, I just… thank you for everything.”

“Stop saying things like that! It’s not the end. It’s not.” Mark almost sounds hysterical, and Kian wants to run to him and hug him hard.

“It is.” Another batch of tears fill him. He hears Mark’s breath hitch. Those two words hurt too much. It is. It is. It’s… the end. “I’m sorry. I–“

 _Knock knock._ “Kian?” His mother calls from the other side of the door. The beat in his heart freezes.

“Shit. Sorry, I have to go. I’ll…” Call you back. I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Love you. These simple words can’t go past Kian’s throat, no matter how much he wants them to. He just hangs up, feeling a sour taste swirl around the inside of his mouth. Quickly scrubbing his red eyes, Kian calls back. “Yeah, come in.”

“Kian,” his mother sits on his bed and the unwelcome weight sinks his mattress, “we have to talk.”

***

Mark tries to focus on the teacher and whatever she had to say about writing essays, but he just can’t. Not without Kian holding his hand underneath the table. Not without Kian whispering silly jokes in his ear, sometimes sliding over a dirty doodle on a piece of scrap paper. Then getting in trouble for not paying attention and laughing.

Not without Kian.

The bell at 3 PM ringing the usual sweet release puts another cut in Mark’s mind.

With his head hanging low, Mark walks back home, and this walk seems longer than ever. He would usually have Kian yapping away about his day, or bitch about this new rock band he was trying to put together; _Skrod_ or whatever obscene name it had.

Now, it’s awfully quiet. The Autumn breeze feels colder than it did on other days, gripping around Mark’s ankles and making every step arduous.

He calls Kian for the thousandth time in the last week, and not once has he picked up. The voicemail beeps instead.

“Hey, Kian. It’s me. Um… again.” Mark lets out a low chuckle, feels a piece of his heart fall. “Listen, I just… I don’t know. I feel like I’ve said everything already but I miss you. Fucking hell, this is… this is ridiculous, Ki. Just call me back. Please? I’m sure we can do something about this. We can work this out somehow. I…” A lump overtakes Mark’s throat and he can’t seem to swallow it back down. “I love you. I… love you. Call me back. Please. Okay? Please.”

***

 _Beep_.

“Hi. Mark again. Um. It’s been another week, and I’m starting to… think that you’re really not… coming back.” God, it hurts to even say it. It physically hurts him. “I don’t even know if you’re hearing these or not. If… you’re thinking about me or not.”

He runs his eyes over the picture in front of him on his desk. Kian’s smiling like the Sun and brightening the world with arms around Mark’s shoulders, he himself looking stupidly happy. All Mark wants is to feel that again.

“You… Remember when I asked if I would see you again, and you said _maybe_?” Mark chews on his lips for a second. “I don’t believe that. This isn’t over. I’ll see you again. I will. Just…” The confidence in his voice is drained with every word that he’s saying, like he doesn’t believe himself either, like Kian is right as usual. “I love you, Kian. I miss you. I…”

With a sigh that stings his chest, he brings his phone down.

_“To send the recorded message, press 1. To re-record, press 2. To discard, press 3.”_

Mark presses 3.


End file.
